


Trials

by days_of_storm



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 07:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days_of_storm/pseuds/days_of_storm





	Trials

**Author's Note:**

  * For [khorazir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khorazir/gifts).



John wasn’t sure whether he was happy to be on his way home. The weather had been just as moody as Sherlock lately, leaving him freezing when he had been sure that a light jacket would suffice, and sweating when he carried home the shopping in his winter coat because there had been snow in the morning. Now it was evening and the warm humid air seemed to drown out London’s noise.

He dropped the bags on the kitchen floor and swore under his breath while he kicked off his shoes, one of them landing next to the couch on which Sherlock sat – well – slouched, one leg up on the backrest while the other extended over the greater part of the couch. His eyes were closed and John was sure that the open packet of nicotine patches on the table could not be a good sign.

“You don’t have a case,” he stated matter of factly while he wrestled out of his coat.

Sherlock sighed dramatically and turned his head. He slowly opened one eye; a feat that John found impressive, since the rest of his face remained completely still. He realized two seconds too late that this was probably the only reason Sherlock did it; showing off.

John couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Patches, though?”

Sherlock opened the other eye and intensified his stare, daring John to deduce him.

Easy.

“You’re bored and frustrated.”

Sherlock inhaled deeply, undoubtedly to berate John for stating the obvious once again.

“And you really hoped that there would be a cruel murder waiting for you and instead the sun came out and people went to the park instead of killing each other. You are hungry, but you are too lazy to get up and actually eat so you hoped I would come home to feed you, which I will not, because I ate already.” John started unbuttoning his shirt, feeling stuffy and in need of a shower.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked. He was interested, and that interest did not only extend to John’s gradual removal of clothes.

“I’m making fun of you.”

“Why?” He wasn’t offended.

“You usually at least pretend to behave like a grown up person when…” John stopped in mid-sentence and looked closely at Sherlock again, who dropped his leg in a belated attempt to appear collected. “Never mind.”

Sherlock sat up and ruffled his own hair, succeeding in making himself look even more out of sorts than he had before.

“You okay?” John’s fingers returned to his shirt. Sherlock watched in silence. When Sherlock gave a weak nod, John relaxed and wandered off towards the bathroom. Just when he opened the door to the bathroom, Sherlock shot up and was behind him within seconds.

“Can I take a shower first?”

John looked at him for a long moment, and then shook his head. “Why didn’t you have a shower in the nine and a half hours that I was not at home?”

“I didn’t use them,” Sherlock stated, drawing himself up to tower over John. It didn’t help much to impress him. “I was tempted,” he continued, pulling up the sleeves of his dressing gown to show John his bare arms. “No patches. Nothing.”

John couldn’t help but grin. “How many days?” As if he hasn’t kept track very closely.

“Eleven.”

“And you don’t hate me yet?”

Sherlock’s expression softened and he relaxed. “Ten was the deal. I did well.”

“Indeed. Too bad you still slept when I went to work this morning,” John grinned and leaned forward, kissing Sherlock’s scandalized expression away.

“You could have woken me up. You know I would have appreciated it.”

“I’m glad you managed one day more than we agreed on.”

“Do I get to choose the next dare, then?” Sherlock sounded very pleased with himself.

***

“No.” John threw the towel at Sherlock, who still sat in the middle of the empty bathtub where he had ended up after John had made up for the previous eleven days of no body contact.

“You said the only rule is that it has to be good for us.”

“Yeah, getting nicotine out of your system was good for you. Me chatting up an innocent girl to secure that you have someone to deliver you coffee from downstairs is not good for anybody.”

“She likes you, and you’re good at flirting.”

“You’d get jealous.”

“I wouldn’t, because I’d know why you do it.”

“If I did it, I’d do it properly. Which means that you would get jealous.”

“A risk I am prepared to take.”

“No.”

“John!”

“I am not enabling your laziness.”

“It’d be good for your nerves.” Sherlock struggled to stand up and used John’s soaked towel to half-heartedly dry himself.

“I quite like making you coffee, you know.” John started brushing his teeth, watching Sherlock in the mirror.

“But their coffee is so much better.” Sherlock realized that this was definitely not what John had wanted to hear from him when their eyes met. “It’s not your fault,” he hastily added.

“Yeah, go and see if you can get some then.”

Sherlock appreciated the double entendre, but he knew that he wasn’t winning this round. “Why do you like making coffee for me?”

John rinsed his mouth and turned around, unable to keep his eyes from moving down. “Because I can make you do things if I make you coffee. Not always, but it’s a perfect tool for positive reinforcement.”

“You use coffee to experiment on me?”

John laughed and took a step towards Sherlock, who very obviously knew that his returned erection would do nothing to help him put his point across.

“I’m a quick learner, you know? I only use what you taught me.”

“You could flirt with her. You like flirting with women. You’re good at it.”

“No.”

“But I did not use nicotine patches, nor did I sleep with you for more than a week. How do you call this game fair?”

“I never said it was fair. I said it would be good for you.”

“I don’t see how not having sex is good for me.”

“Appreciation.”

Sherlock wasn’t impressed. “I am perfectly able to appreciate sex while I’m having it.”

John snorted. “Missing the point.”

“But I did as you asked, and now you refuse to do what I ask.”

“You know my reasons.”

***

Sherlock managed to wait until John had put on his pyjamas and had settled into his chair with a book and a glass of wine before he offered an alternative, in the nude.

John grinned up at Sherlock’s whose state had remained unchanged for the past thirty minutes, and closed his book.

“You do one hundred press-ups every morning. Naked.”

John’s grin widened. “You surprise me, Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock frowned and cocked his head to the left. “Why?”

“Because I expected you to establish more rules than that.”

“What more… oh.”

“I accept.”

“No, wait!” Sherlock grabbed John’s book and placed it on the desk.

“Too late.” John knew he was playing dirty, but for once Sherlock was out of his depth, and seriously intrigued by the many ways John found to rile him up.

He took a sip of his wine and offered Sherlock his glass.

“We start tomorrow, right?”

Sherlock nodded, unsure of what to do with the glass in his hand. Eventually he emptied it.

“So tonight I’ll show you the version of press-ups I would have had in mind if I had come up with the idea.”

 


End file.
